The Twilight Diaries
by Tegildess
Summary: Isabella Swan reminisces on her life as the girlfriend of a vampire. Parody ensues. Please read and review!
1. Twilight

Hi A/N: Attention all readers! This is _satire_. I actually did enjoy the books very much, but there are some things too ridiculous to let pass without parody. I don't mean to offend anyone, or Stephanie Meyer, who owns these characters. Thanks, Tegildess.

**The Twilight Diaries**

**By Isabella Swan**

_I lay supine on the floor, watching the man walk casually forward to torture then murder me. I guess it doesn't matter. I'm pretty careless with my safety, and I like to start my memoirs with a cliffhanger that won't be cleared up for about 400 painful pages reminiscent of mediocre fanfiction with plot twists so easy to see through, a caveman could do it. As you can tell, my writing style is kind of amateur too. But what can you expect? I'm a ditzy teenage girl in love. sigh In any case, I'm going to die a very noble death here, and in a couple dozen chapters of soppy romance, you may just find out why..._

Hi. My name is Isabella Swan, but I prefer to be called Bella. The name's just a tad darker that way, and I am truly a tormented personality. For example:

My parents divorced when I was fairly young, mainly because my mom got too depressed living in Forks (where she could never see the sun) to make any effort to work out her as-yet-undisclosed marital problems (I gather it had to do with not seeing the sun, which is a very logical reason to split up a family) with Charlie– pardon, my dad. She just hated Forks too much.

I hate Forks too, and not just because it's a creepy name for a town. I think– and I'm smart so I have the right to say this, _and_ get indignant later if you doubt my intelligence– that the name is probably a metaphor for my life, and a subtle foreshadowing of the hard choices I'm going to have to make regarding my future while living there.

Anyway, I'm such a self-sacrificing person (as you'll see in a much more dramatic fashion later) that I decided to give up my happy, sunny life in Phoenix, AZ to come live with Charlie– pardon, my dad– in Forks. This way, my Mom can follow around my minor league baseball step dad Phil, whom she robbed from a cradle.

Basically, I'm pretty ambivalent about my own happiness. And why shouldn't I be? Even though I've lived in a fairly sunny climate most of my life, I don't tan. I look sallow all the time, have straight brown hair, and wear jeans and flannel shirts or tan sweaters that make me look like a clone of that Cullen boy, Edward. In laymen's terms– I'm just ordinary in the looks department. And my lackluster physical identity doesn't stop there–

I pretty much never learned how to walk. It must have been the trauma of the divorce, because I've never met anyone clumsier than myself. I trip on perfectly smooth, flat surfaces, and literally have to watch my feet while I walk. I don't tell anyone this, but sometimes I guide my steps in my head: _left, right, left– no! Watch out! Gradual turn approaching! Okay– maintain, maintain... good. Right, left, right, left_. I generally don't share that information. I mean, it's _way_ more embarrassing than the idea that people would actually believe I could possibly break four ribs and a leg by tripping down a hotel staircase and falling out the window. Yet believe it they do...

So, I'm a plain Jane klutz, essentially. And the worst part of it is that, practically the first day I arrived at Forks High School, every guy in a mile-wide radius was following me around like a devoted retriever. Ugh. How _annoying_. I'm not even sure why that happens. I'm just such an ordinary girl, and yet these guys are getting into fights trying to walk me to my next class. Maybe it's the allure of my strawberry shampoo. Oh well. There's at least _one_ guy who doesn't like me in Forks. Too bad he's the only one who dazzles me.

That's Edward Cullen. He's basically a bronze-haired god who sits at the Beautiful People table. The fact that they never eat and are pretty much the school pariahs doesn't really bother me– Edward gave me this really frustrated look at lunch once, I was _sure_ we had a moment. Nevertheless, he was really rude after he sniffed me one time in Biology. Why would he be so mean? He doesn't even know me! He actually tried to switch _out_ of that class, and I'm sure it has something to do with me. sniff I know, I know. He saved me from being crushed by a car, and then saved me again from getting gang-raped and murdered, but that's not what _counts_. What counts is that he's always staring at me from his shiny silver Volvo and then completely _ignores_ me in class. It's so unfair! I love him– I really do! And he just dazzles me.

It doesn't bother me at all that he's probably anorexic, possibly albino, and always skips school when the sun comes out, or that the local Native Americans shun his family. What do they know? They aren't welcome here anyway– ever heard of a little thing called _Manifest Destiny_? And I don't even care that he's probably not human and really a blood-drinking monster five times my age. What _matters_ is that I love him, and I don't know how he feels about me.

Sometimes, I think my vampire theory must be wrong and that he's just schizophrenic. I mean, sometimes he'll be so sweet– saving my life and all– and other times he'll just completely ignore me, or make cryptic remarks like "You should stay away from me." Of course, I don't take any of that seriously. He's just playing hard to catch, right? Oh, but how he dazzles me.

The best day of my life was when I found out that he really _did_ like me. He told me that he watches me through my window every night, and I think that's just so sweet. It's like that Clay Aiken song "If I was Invisible." He's not a stalker– he's just _devoted_.

Anyway, we were finally dating, and I had fun riding on his back while he raced through the woods at Warp 9, and then puking afterwards. Then he'd go lay in the grass and I'd watch how his skin sparkled. _Sparkled_. I mean, if I was an epileptic, in the sun, Edward could induce a seizure... though, he already does make my heart stop (literally!) when he brushes his stony fingers against mine. Then, he'd read people's minds and tell me what they were thinking. It's really fun. The mark of a good relationship is when there are no secrets between the two, and that's totally true for me and Edward. It's kind of like in 1984, when the telescreens would listen if anyone was sleep-talking about Big Brother, and then the secret police would go and then throw them in the Ministry of Love. Edward's viselike, ice-cold marble death-grip is my Ministry of Love, if you know what I mean. giggle

But all good things must end– at least for me, because I'm not immortal (dammit!). Some creepy Tracker vampire caught my scent and decided to hold my mom hostage to get to me, because my strawberry shampoo (or rusty blood smell) is just that irresistible. Of course, it wasn't really my mom– just an old home video– but I didn't really care. As I told you, I'm pretty ambivalent about my happiness.

Anyway, after Edward's family pretty much put their lives on the line to save me (all except Rosalie, the ho), I decided to give my own life up to save the ones I love. Pretty noble, I know. And in the meantime, I unexpectedly uncovered the secret of Alice Cullen's lost memories, which was a plot point bothering me ever since Edward started making dazzlingly frustrated facial expressions whenever I would mention her.

So, I was basically all set to die on film (the Tracker had set up a _camera_, like some hot-shot terrorist) when I heard this low growling. I figured I was in Heaven, because my _perfect_ Heaven would be the place where I can watch my beloved make threatening guttural noises all day long, but it was just Edward calling me up from the deep comatose waters of a near-death experience so he could suck some poison out of my hand. I really wished he wouldn't. More than anything, I want to be a Child of Darkness and prowl the woods killing angry grizzly bears and mountain lions with my Edward. Oh well, it wasn't to be...

Plot denouement here. Alice fabricates some material evidence (in some places, they call that obstruction of justice, but human laws don't apply to the _Cullens_, silly); Rosalie still doesn't like me– the skank; I freak out over an IV.

When I finally got out of the hospital, wearing a bulky leg cast, Alice and Edward somehow managed to get me all dressed up with stilettos (well, one stiletto, at least) and a corsage without me guessing that I was going to Prom. Silly me– I figured it was going to some satanic vampire initiation ceremony. I was pretty disappointed, but, Lord, does that black suit complement Edward's pale, bloodless complexion or what?

Boy, I wish he would eat me.


	2. New Moon

The Twilight Diaries: New Moon

**The Twilight Diaries: New Moon**

**By Isabella Swan**

_I feel like I'm in a nightmare– I'm running as fast as I can across the crowded plaza (which is sort of miraculous really, and very out of character, because back home on Forks I can't seem to walk two feet without tripping and slicing various parts of my body open so severely that they need stitches), but it's as though I'm treading water and no matter how fast I go, it will never be enough. I see a faint glimmer in the shadows, and I know I'm too late, but I guess it doesn't matter. Even if I don't get there in time, this book won't totally be wasted because the extended Romeo and Juliet metaphor will come full circle when my Romeo kills himself because he thinks I did first…_

Hi. My name's Bella Swan, and I kinda have a thing for mythological monster men. I know, I know– it doesn't make sense: I'm so ordinary and plain and lacking in self-esteem. For a year, I've been wondering fatalistically when my beloved Edward was going to realize what I knew (and you knew, probably) all along: that I'm a loser. In any case, it finally happened.

It all started with my birthday.

I didn't like turning eighteen, because it meant I was one year older than Edward. Oh, it doesn't count that he could be my great-great-great grandfather– what counts is that I'm _physically_ older than him. And I can't bear the thought that I'm going to ultimately look so much older that people think I'm some sort of cougar or something, like what they say about Renee and Phil.

Anyway, I _begged_ Edward to make me a vampire (Plan A), but he was all concerned about my _soul_ or something dumb like that. Eternal damnation? Whatever. Edward seems to like Plan B (college) and Plan C (old age, followed by radical plastic surgery) a lot better, but I guess if I get really desperate, I can always just tempt Jasper to bite me with a bloody nose or other flesh wound– Jasper would happily eat me.

And he's pretty much the reason Edward left me. When I tripped and cut myself on some glass plates at the Cullen house on my birthday and Jasper almost ripped my throat out, Edward realized that he didn't want a stupid, weak, clumsy mortal as his companion. He tried to tell me later that he realized how much danger he was putting me in, but who are we kidding here? Come on.

In any case, after that night, Edward's crooked smile no longer reached his eyes. I knew something bad was about to happen.

Reader's Digest version: He took me into the forest, told me he didn't want me anymore, and left me in the woods to wander about listlessly muttering "He's gone." Now, in case you haven't noticed, a girl who spends her time around vampires isn't exactly Katie Cautious, so instead of going back home to drown my sorrows in ice cream and Lifetime movies (like any other teenage girl), I curled up on the forest floor and dreamed about nothingness and nonexistence.

October

November

December

January

I pretty much went to school and didn't talk to my friends, came home and didn't talk to my dad, and buried my unhappiness in anti-derivatives, the mean value theorem, and _Animal Farm_. Calculus was soothing because it caused me pain, and as a zombie, it was nice to feel anything. Communism was soothing because it sucked out your soul.

And apparently– who would've guess _this?_– my friends got a little miffed during all the months I completely forgot they existed. Still, Jessica agreed to go with me to a really gory movie. I just wanted to see other emotionless resurrected corpses go around killing other emotionless resurrected corpses. It felt a little like my life. As the zombies had tormented their victims, leaving them equally empty, so had Edw– _You-Know-Who­­_ ripped out a piece of my heart, leaving a big gaping hole that sometimes sent me into anaphylactic shock and other various breathing difficulties.

I tried to be normal, but Jessica didn't buy it. I guess she thought the fact that I like to approach creepy men in bars late at night was a little weird. Oh well. I couldn't very well explain to her that it's _not_ because I wanted to be gang-raped and murdered, but that every time I came close to being gang-raped or otherwise maimed, mauled, or murdered, I heard the voice of _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ in my head, and the magic crescent-shaped scar on my hand twinged a little, as it always did when _You-Know-Who_ was near.

What could I have said? "No Jessica– I'm not suicidal. I'm just trying to be reckless and stupid so I can have some more hallucinations." I considered it, but I didn't want her to start thinking I was weird or anything.

So I went home and up to my room wondering what else I could do to hear _him_ again. I suddenly remembered the gift he'd given me for my birthday– the CD! But it wasn't there, and all the pictures of _him_ had been torn out of my scrapbook. I figured that vampires had problems too and he was probably just a kleptomaniac as well as anorexic, but it didn't make it right for him to be an Indian giver.

Hey! Speaking of Indians…

I decided that if anyone could get me in danger, it was Jacob Black, the car maintenance expert on the Quileute reservation. He could fix those old motorcycles I'd gotten for free and teach me how to ride, and that would be _really_ reckless. The best part was that with my motor skills and dexterity (or lack thereof), I could probably get myself into a coma and hear _his_ voice FOREVER! The plan was too perfect to fail.

Turns out, I really enjoyed spending time with Jacob. Though, I think he liked me a little more than I ever planned to reciprocate…

But he was still great at helping me do reckless and stupid things. After he fixed up the motorcycles, I was able to run into trees and go to the hospital a couple times a week, which was great, _and_ he promised to plummet off cliffs into the ocean with me. It was amazing because every time I put my life in danger, I heard _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_'s voice growling profanities at me. What more could a girl ask for?

For a while, I honestly considered dating Jacob, but– coincidentally– every time I was about to give in, one of the "bloodsuckers" showed up. Besides, even though he was two grades younger than me, he was waaaaay too old. For example:

Bells: 18

Cooking skills +2

Divorced parents +3

Motor skills -75

Ability to avoid Mike Newton's advances +13

Ability to avoid being killed by vampires +19

Ability to avoid being mauled by werewolves +12

Final age: -8

Jake: 16

Car-building talent +4

Wiry muscles +5

Liking a girl who doesn't really care about him that way -11

Not barfing during movies like wimpy Mike Newton +7

Hulk-like transformative powers: +93.33333

Final age: 114.33333

So, pretty much, I don't exist and he should be dead. But considering my numbness and his furry little problem, I guess that's fairly accurate.

Oh! Did I mention that Jake's a werewolf? Well, he is, and I had been _very_ relieved to find out that was all that was wrong. I thought he'd been _brainwashed_. This was much better.

But it was difficult reaching this realization. I mean, how could I have ever _guessed_ that there were mythological creatures living in Forks? It's not like the stories– of unusually large black bears in the woods, and of the Quileutes being descended from wolves– really meant anything. And that time the pack of huge wolves went after Laurent in the meadow instead of warm, bloody me was just a fluke. And all those dreams of Sam Uley transforming into something out of the corner of my eye just symbolized how much he was changing my friend Jake. Anyway, I couldn't _possibly_ have realized that Jacob was a werewolf– there were no hints at all– but I'm really smart, so somehow I realized just what was happening on the reservation.

Of course, I did have a deep philosophical discussion with him about whether it was better if he just _stopped_ being a werewolf. It's not a religious thing for me, but I've just always been taught that being a werewolf is a choice, and with prayer and counseling, he could probably be turned back to normal. But Jacob was adamant– "Bella, why would anyone choose this life when it leads to so much discrimination? I was _born_ this way." He finally persuaded me that being a werewolf was probably genetic, and I promised him that if he ever planned on marrying, I'd drive him to California, where the Supreme Court recently ruled that denying people marriage on the basis of lupine orientation was unconstitutional. That is, if they didn't pass Prop 8, which would define marriage as a union between a human mortal and a human mortal only.

So now I was friends with a werewolf and his pack, and, frankly, I was pretty darn jealous. Emily was so lucky! Why would Sam agree to maul _her_ when Edward (oh, how the name hurts!) wouldn't even give me a little love nip? sigh I'm just not engaging enough to hold a vampire for an extended period of time.

I decided it was the perfect moment to jump off a cliff, so I did, alone, in a hurricane, with a psychotic grief-crazed vampire after me. I mean, I don't see at _all_ why Alice would view that as a suicide attempt.

Anyway, in a _completely unexpected literary allusion_, Edward found out about my "suicide" and decided to kill himself too by raising a ruckus in Volterra, the home of the original vampire mafia– the Volturi.

Of course, the only way to save Edward was for me to fly off the Italy with Alice and stop him before he revealed his bedazzled granite physique to the Italian populace. And even though I knew he probably still wouldn't want me around afterward– never mind that he was willing to die for me, that didn't mean anything– I still loved him and had to try.

So, moving on from fabricating evidence to grand theft auto, Alice stole us a car and got us to Volterra with just minutes to spare. As I ran to the clocktower, I totally felt like I was in the _Da Vinci Code_. "Palazza de Priori"? That's so a secret religious organization intended to hide the fact that Mary Magdalene was the Holy Grail.

Anyway, Stephanie Meyer turned off my clumsiness for about five pages so I could get to Edward in time to stop him from committing suicide, but not in time to stop the Voluri from taking us down to their underground lair.

Their leader, Aro, was pretty much a creep. He was about a thousand years old, and liked to touch people. But he still couldn't read my thoughts. And his dumpy little minion (Dolores) Jane (Umbridge) couldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on me either. So there!

We got out– though Edward had to promise them to make me a vampire "soon"– and Edward spent the plane ride home kissing my arms and hands. I ignored the stewardess's rather horrified looks in my direction, and imagined I was a political prisoner being deprived of sleep, so I could be conscious with Edward for as long as possible. He'd probably leave me again the moment we got to Forks.

We get home; Jacob gets me grounded; I call a meeting of the Vampire Senate; Edward proposes; And apparently, I smell bad to everyone. So much for that strawberry shampoo.

Anyway, I told Edward about my schizophrenia and had an epiphany. Edward loves me! And even through my denial, somewhere deep down I knew, and that's why his voice kept projecting itself whenever I put myself in danger. Edward Cullen loves me, and I'll never ever never ever never ever forget it again!

Though, he'll probably leave me again the moment I graduate.


End file.
